A Little Over A Year Ago
by NightStalkerBlackRaspberry
Summary: I drop my phone onto the bed and push my finger through my hair, gripping my fingers tightly in the strands of hair. I scream, pulling my hands from my head. It isn't true they're lying to me. I get keys and drive to the hospital.  Eli teen for themes
1. Chapter 1

**So I got kinda depressed in Sociology today, then we had free writing in my College Writing class today, right after Sociology. So this is what I wrote.**

"Hello," I answer iPhone, seeing a call from Julia, we just had an argument in our school parking lot. You never realize that you don't mean things until after you say them, or at least that seemed to be my problem.

"Eli," a voice sobs my name, it takes me a minute to realize that the voice belongs to Julia's mother.

"Yes," I ask, quickly checking my caller I.D. to make sure I read it right. I did, it reads: Julia.

"It's Julia, there was an accident, she was hit by a car while riding her bike home," she continues to sob. My heart feels like it has sunk form my chest to the pit of my stomach. I sit in my room nearly speechless.

"What?" I force the question that forms in my heart to exit my body. I hear a loud crash, it makes me jump a little. "Hello, hello?" I ask frantically into the thin air. There is a static-like sound, as if someone was running their hand over the speaker. Worry starts to take over me, almost making me feel sick.

"Eli, Julia didn't make it." her older brother of two years tells me in a monotone.

"You mean she didn't make it home, because she got hit, and she will be ok, right?" I ask he remains silent. "Right?" I scream into the phone.

"No," he whispers he says nothing else before he hangs up the phone, leaving me sitting here alone on my bed. I drop my phone onto the bed and push my finger through my hair, gripping my fingers tightly in the strands of hair. I scream, pulling my hands from my head. It isn't true they're lying to me. I get up and run to the kitchen grabbing my keys from the table and go to the door.

"I'm going out," I yell hot tears turning cold and dripping off my chin, and jaw line. I slam the thick wooden door shut before he can answer. I get into my hearse and pull away from the curb sharply. I drive at ten above the speed limit not caring. The hospital is a ten minute drive, yet it feels so much longer when you need to get there quickly. The parking lot is full of cars. I choose a spot and run too the door. I see her parents sitting in two ugly chairs. Her mother in folded into her father quaking with sobs. Paul, her brother, is staring right ahead, tears streaming.

That is when I know it is true. In a split second everything that meant anything to me in the world, is gone. I collapse to my knees on the floor, right in the entrance. A nurse runs to my side.

"Are you alright, do you need emergency care?" she rushes at my faster than my head will let me comprehend. I stand up and run out the door. She stares after me, I keep running to my car. I get in and peel out of the parking lot. I go home, my face stained with wet tears. I walk in and shut the door sliding down the back side of it. I see my dads head over the back of out couch, he sips something, what I assume to be a beer or maybe pop. I inhale several sharp breaths causing my chest to move up and down rapidly.

"What are you doing, son?" he asks me. I hit my head hard on the door, the pain almost is enjoyable. Just exerting my anger and depression.

"Julia's dead," I get up and walk out of the entranceway of my house.

I make my way back to my room and throw a strong punch to the trim around the outside of the door after shutting it. Julia is dead. I caused her to die, I don't deserve anything I have. I should be locked up, I am a monster. I kick my short, black, wire trash can. I dent it severely. Enraged with myself I grab a pen and write the work "Hate" on the inside of my forearm, pressing hard with the pen. I press hard enough that smalls pools of blood form here and there along the work. Rather that it being almost enjoyable, its become a painful pleasure. I squeeze my arm making the blood pool quicker, it runs slowly down the paleness towards my hand. Julia would hate me doing this. She is the reason I stopped a few months ago, that was then. This is now, now I have nothing to keep me from doing it. I bite my lip and trace the word over and over, harder and harder. More blood pools to the surface and it feels great exiting my thin body. I get off my floor and sit in the bathroom against the counter under the sink. Blood streams from my arm into my palm, following the lines in my hands before puddling there.

I let the emotional pain seep out with the blood, the physical pain slowly increasing. It causes more pleasure in my head than anything. The tears have slowed down enough that I can clearly see what I am doing to myself I continue to trace the swelled lines on my arm. The room on my palm is running low and soon enough it starts dripping from between my finger staining the white tiles on the bathroom floor. I look down at the ground, I see the blood and I can picture Julia all mess up covered in it. I sink the pen deeper into my skin. I bit hard on my lip from the pain and I can taste something metallic, blood.

I begin to feel dizzy, and realize the extent to my self harm. The blood loss is becoming too much to handle. I do it once more and feel even more dizzy, I lay on my side and wrap my right arm, my clean arm, around my stomach. I know what I have done, and I know it was planned. I breathe slowly and feel it getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open. I try to force them to but they just won't. The dizziness overcomes me and I black out.

**So what do you think? I dunno about it...I just kinda felt like it sooooo yeah. Eh?**


	2. Something On The Serious Side

Suicide is a serious issue, so please read through this. If you ever need someone to talk to please call:

1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)OR

1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8253)

Suicide was the seventh leading cause of death for males and the fifteenth leading cause of death for females in 2007.

Almost four times as many males as females die by suicide.

Firearms, suffocation, and poison are by far the most common methods of suicide, overall.

**However, men and women differ in the method used, as shown below:**

Suicide by: Males (%) Females (%)

Firearms: 56 30

Suffocation: 24 21

Poisoning: 13 40

**In 2007, suicide was the third leading cause of death for young people ages 15 to 24.****1**** Of every 100,000 young people in each age group, the following number died by suicide:**

Children ages 10 to 14 — 0.9 per 100,000

Adolescents ages 15 to 19 — 6.9 per 100,000

Young adults ages 20 to 24 — 12.7 per 100,000

As in the general population, young people were much more likely to use firearms, suffocation, and poisoning than other methods of suicide, overall. However, while adolescents and young adults were more likely to use firearms than suffocation, children were dramatically more likely to use suffocation.

**There were also gender differences in suicide among young people, as follows:**

-Nearly five times as many males as females ages 15 to 19 died by suicide.

-Just under six times as many males as females ages 20 to 24 died by suicide.

**Older Americans are disproportionately likely to die by suicide.**

-Of every 100,000 people ages 65 and older, 14.3 died by suicide in 2007. This figure is higher than the national average of 11.3 suicides per 100,000 people in the general population.

-Non-Hispanic white men age 85 or older had an even higher rate, with 47 suicide deaths per 100,000.

**Of every 100,000 people in each of the following ethnic/racial groups below, the following number died by suicide in 2007.**

**Highest rates**:

-American Indian and Alaska Natives — 14.3 per 100,000

-Non-Hispanic Whites — 13.5 per 100,000

**Lowest rates:**

-Hispanics — 6.0 per 100,000

-Non-Hispanic Blacks — 5.1 per 100,000

-Asian and Pacific Islanders — 6.2 per 100,000

**Fact number one**: Many articles discuss the link between suicide and winter months. Studies have shown that most suicides actually occur during the spring. There are actually fewer suicides committed in the winter months.

**Fact number two**: In the United States, there are more instances of suicide in the western states than in eastern states.

**Fact number three**: Suicide is ranked number 8 in the leading cause of death of American males.

**Fact number four**: When a male attempts suicide, they are at least four times as likely to succeed as females.

**Fact number five:** The highest number of suicides committed are by whites, followed closely by American Indian and Native Alaskan men.

**Fact number six: **Around 60% of men who commit suicide use a firearm.

**Fact number seven: **Women attempt suicide as much as three times more often than men.

**Fact number eight:** Suicide is the third leading cause of death in adolescents ages 15 through 24.

**Fact number nine**: From six to ten thousand elderly people commit suicide each year. Most use a firearm.

**Fact Number ten: **Nearly six people out of every 100,000 will attempt suicide with a firearm.

**Fact number eleven**: Florida has the highest number of suicide death over all, followed closely by Texas.

**Fact number twelve**: Rhode Island and North Dakota have the lowest number of suicide deaths.

**Fact number thirteen**: Hanging accounts for about 1/5 of all suicides.

**Fact number fourteen**: Suicide is ranked number 11 in the leading cause of death of Americans.

**Fact number fifteen: **There are nearly one million suicide attempts in the United States each year.

**Fact number sixteen:** A suicide occurs approximately every 17 minutes in the United States.

**Fact number seventeen**: Black females have the lowest suicide rate among any other group

**Breakdown by Gender / Ethnicity / Young, Old Age Groups**

Rate Per

Number Per Day 100,000 % of Deaths

Total ...30,622...83.9...10.8...1.3

Males ...24,672...67.6...17.6...2.1

Females...5,950...16.3...4.1...0.5

Whites...27,710...75.9...11.9...1.3

Nonwhites...2,912...8.0...5.6...0.9

Blacks...1,957...5.4...5.3...0.7

Elderly (65+ yrs.) .5,393...14.8...15.3...0.3

Young (15-24 yrs.)..3,971...10.9...9.9...12.3

**Breakdown by Age Groups**

(Rates Per 100,000)

Age: 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001

5-14 0.8 0.7 0.9 0.9 0.9 0.9 0.8 0.8 0.8 0.6 0.8 0.7

15-24 13.2 13.1 13.0 13.5 13.8 13.3 12.0 11.4 11.1 10.3 10.4 9.9

25-34 15.2 15.2 14.5 15.1 15.4 15.4 14.5 14.3 13.8 13.5 12.8 12.8

35-44 15.3 14.7 15.1 15.1 15.3 15.2 15.5 15.3 15.4 14.4 14.6 14.7

45-54 14.8 15.5 14.7 14.5 14.4 14.6 14.9 14.7 14.8 14.2 14.6 15.2

55-64 16.0 15.4 14.8 14.6 13.4 13.3 13.7 13.5 13.1 12.4 12.3 13.1

65-74 17.9 16.9 16.5 16.3 15.3 15.8 15.0 14.4 14.1 13.6 12.6 13.3

75-84 24.9 23.5 22.8 22.3 21.3 20.7 20.0 19.3 19.7 18.3 17.7 17.4

85+ 22.2 24.0 21.9 22.8 23.0 21.6 20.2 20.8 21.0 19.2 19.4 17.5

65+ 20.5 19.7 19.1 19.0 18.1 18.1 17.3 16.8 16.9 15.9 15.3 15.3

Total 12.4 12.2 12.0 12.1 12.0 11.9 11.6 11.4 11.3 10.7 10.7 10.8

**My own personal experiences:**

**My sixth grade year:**

**My friend Steven (He was in eighth grade) was being teased all through middle school on the bus. ****our moms were best friends. We were the closest of friends, he got picked on one to many times on the bus on a Friday. He went home and killed himself, the worst part was that my mom knew. I had to find out in school, the first Monday of sixth grade over the P.A.****that my friend shot himself because they were picking on him.**

**My freshman year:**

**A friend of a friend hung himself in his shower, at 4:30 in the morning, because people were calling him fake on his myspace, because he was using another persons picture. **

**Just last weekend:**

**A friends uncle killed himself, for an unknown reason still. He also hung himself, leaving his three sons and wife to fend for them selves.**

**Suicide effects everyone, it isn't the right way out. It might seem like an easy way out, but think of everyone you could hurt. Talking ot someone is, however the right way to fix things.**

**I know I couldn't force you to read it, but I sincerely hope you did. **

**I will post the next chapter to Hearse Boy and Church Girl (The Gothic and The Gifted) later on, I hope to get some feed back about this.**

**Also I am thinking about creating a second chapter and third chapter (Two different endings.)**

**Check out: I'm Sorry (Goodbye) by ...And Then I Turned Seven**

**Its a great song and has some good information, also.**

**A lot of that information came from www. suicude .com**

**And feel free to share any stories you might have in a review or private message.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Parte Dos!**

I feel dizzy, I open my eyes and my head pounds in pain. I see unfamiliar walls, the one directly across from where I lay is a plain, vanilla white. There is a dark wood topped table, the table is shaped oddly like the letter "C", with a metal arm coming from one end of the rectangle shape, it goes down, but bends again at the bottom, in the same direction as the table. I blink a few times trying to recognize my surroundings but it doesn't come to me. The door look heavy, it's a lighter colored wood and a window with the shades pulled up, is located five inches from the top, about two feet long and a foot and a half wide. Out side the door there are people walking back and forth out in a hallway, I can see a ways down the hallway, there are more doors like my own. I can also see into another room down quite a bit. It is the same vanilla white as my room and the hallway, only it is decorated with a few pink colored chairs with wooded frames. My location remains out of mind for me, I don't remember coming here at all.

Looking around my room again it starts to resemble something familiar, I can't quite pin point what, though. The covers on my bed are light blue and there is a white sheet under me. I am dressed in a white t-shirt, which I also don't recognize. I pull back my covers with my left hand and my arm throbs, so I look down. My entire forearm is wrapped in gauze like bandages.

Memories start to flood my brain and suddenly it is too much, I feel even more dizzy. I pull the covers back over my thin body and shut my eyes tight. I know where I am, I am in a hospital. I tried to kill myself, and failed. I mentally curse to myself and realize I am hooked up to a couple different machines. There are five wires coming from the neck hole of my shirt. With my right hand I find five sticker-like things stuck to my chest. There is an IV coming from under the bandages on my left am with a hanging bag closes to my head, on a tall pole neat to the bed.

I look towards the window it looks like I am several floors up, for I cannot see the ground, but buildings out in the city. A nurse walks in and comes to my side, she starts to pull the gauze off and I wince in pain and look at her.

"Oh, you're awake," she notes looking at me with sad, shocked eyes. My eyes well with tears, because she has Julia's big brown eyes and dark hair. Her eyes grow even more sad making my tears spill over, she reminds me of exactly what Julia's face was like when I last saw her, the only difference is that she is not crying. I find it hard to breathe again and I can recall this feeling from when I was sitting in my bathroom.

"How are you feeling?" she asks me, I wince again as she pats at my arm with a cotton like pad, she throws the one from her hand out. I risk a glance at my arm. The word "Hate" is carved deep in my skin in all capital letters. I blink back tears, but they drip from my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

"Horrible," I say is a raspy voice, my mouth and throat are both too dry to speak normal. She walks out of the room and into the bathroom on the right hand side of my room. She comes back with a paper cup full of water. She hands it to me and I sit up a little and sip the water slowly.

"Better," she asks me. I nod silently. I feel myself breaking down again, but slowly. I have come to terms that she is in fact dead, and never coming back.

"How long have I been here?" I ask her, my voice sounding a little better than it did minutes ago. I hope I haven't missed her funeral. I need a chance to say goodbye to my everything.

"You came in Saturday night, its about three o'clock now and it is Monday." my heart sinks and my eyes start to leak again.

"Where is my phone? I ask realizing I am in foreign sweatpants. I start to panic, I need to be there or I won't live another second.

"They have all your things in storage, you can't have them until you go through the rehab program here, I'm sorry it's policy." she explains to me.

"No, I need to be there, I can't miss it. I have to see her." I stammer out quickly. She looks at me nervously, with a hint of terror and uncertainty. "What are you talking about?" she speaks to me like I am a crazy person, or maybe a child. I start to breathe heavy again and the machine next to my bed starts to beep faster. "Calm down, you need to be clam," she says rapidly. A doctor comes in and injects me with something before I can retaliate.

"What was that," I yell as the beeps start to slow down. I feel myself getting calmer, almost sleepy but not exactly. He looks down to me from where he is standing.

"It was a sedative, something to keep you calm, so you don't stress yourself out anymore. Your body can't handle it." he tells me. "Where is my dad?" I ask he looks at me as if debating on what to say.

"In the waiting room, I will get him." he says leaving me alone with the nurse again, she continues to work at my arm, now wrapping it back up in fresh gauze she tapes them in place with white tape. My whole arm is swollen under the wrappings and a pink color more red around the carving.

"Eli," my dad rushes into the room. He pulls a chair up next to me on the right. The nurse finishes up and checks the bags hanging above my head. One is running low, almost empty. She nods to herself and leaves the room.

"Dad," I say almost crying again. His eyes are pained, and I know it is because of me. I feel guilty, but still know I don't want to live without her. "Funeral," I exhale the word, not wanting to even say it.

"Its tomorrow, at noon at the funeral home around the corner from her house." he says to me. He looks like he has more to say.

"I have to be there," I demand, he starts shaking his head. "I have to," I yell as loud as I can in my condition. My entire body feels weak and I can hardly move. I have been living on liquid nutrition for two days, and it wasn't enough.

"Eli, you lost a lot of blood, you can't even eat solid food, let alone walk." he tells me making me feel even weaker.

"I have to say goodbye, I have to see her one last time," I start to choke on my tears. "You got to say goodbye to mom," I choke out causing myself to cough.

"I'll see what I can do," he says, I know I have hurt him by bringing my mother into this. I knew he still blamed himself for her death, as do I about Julia's. He leaves me alone in the room and I start to hyperventilate. I never needed my dad much, but now I feel as if he is all I have and he just left me alone, I know he'll be back but for some reason when I realize I am alone I just can't breathe. The machine starts to go crazy beeping and I get a rush of dizzy over me, it spins around it my head until all I see is black again. I hear voices in the background but they mean nothing to me, they are not understandable.

I stir in my bed and its quiet, I feel like I just had the worst dream that I can't remember. As I begin to feel more and more awake I remember the dream, it was a nightmare, the whole thing. I open my eyes to find I am living this nightmare. My dad is sitting on my right in a chair resting his head in his hands. I stir a little more, feeling uncomfortable in my current position.

"Eli, you have got to keep calm, you are making yourself more ill. They won't let you out tomorrow. When I asked them they said I could take you with an aid. Eli you can't even sit up though, I think taking you out of here is a bad idea. We'll have to get you a wheel chair and you can't be unhooked from either of your IV's." he tries talking me out of wanting to see her one last time.

"I have to go," I say coughing a hard dry cough. I feel sick and weak.

"They have to take blood from you to make sure that you are alright, they have to check for chemical unbalances, after they take more blood from you it is going to be hard. You won't be able to sleep because they need to keep you from going into a coma, Eli you are weak enough already," he pauses. "I will take you but, I don't want to." he finishes. I nod hoping he understands that I have to go to that funeral. "After they have you stable and strong enough they are putting you into a rehab facility here on the property. You won't be returning to your school. Once you are out of rehab, we are moving to a larger city in Toronto, it's called Degrassi." he tells me, I am not sure what I am supposed to think of this new school idea and moving away, but it seems like a good way to keep me from all the great memories that now make me hate myself and almost everything else in know.

**So now you have an option, either I will write the other ending I have planned out in my head, or I could make this into a short story about** **his experiences at rehab, then possibly into how things go at Degrassi. **

**Which do you want? **


	4. Chapter 3

**So I think this is going to be a full story ****J**

Last night I laid in bed, unable to sleep. Whenever I would shut my eyes Julia came into my mind. Seeing her make me want to break free of these four white walls. I open my eyes after trying for the final time to sleep and see that I am alone in my room, this is the first time I can remember being left alone in here. I feel weaker than the previous day, and nothing but the few sips of water I had when I first woke up, has passed my lips. I am being fed with liquid nutrition, through one of the three IV's I now have pinned into my arm. My left arm is propped up on a pillow so I don't move it too much. The door opens.

"Good morning, Eli." a blonde nurse, who I have come to know as Anna, says to me checking the levels in the hanging bags. She then goes to my arm where she pulls the wrapping off. She grimaces at every glance to the cuts. The letters are raised a little from the swelling, blood still leaves the inscription on my arm and plants itself on the gauze pads. "You were a real scare when you came in you know," she tells me.

"I wish I hadn't been a scare," I say confessing my innermost thoughts to her.

"Well, that is the first step to your recovery. Knowing you regret doing what you have done, once you have acknowledged this, you can move past it." she preaches to me.

"Anna, I mean I wish I would have just died," I say bluntly to her, her face turns to pure terror and I can't feel compassion for her.

"Eli," she whispers cleaning my wound, the three needles are stuck in my wrist starting near the letter "E". I don't say anything so she goes about her work and wraps my arm up. "Your doctor is going to test you with some solid food today, and less pain meds." I ignore her speaking to me because I have buried myself, once again, in my depression. She leaves and I lay in my bed staring at the plain white ceiling with a single, circular, and flat lighting fixture, I start to see purple dots forming where the brightest point is. Time on the clock passes slowly, at eleven o'clock my doctor comes in with my dad, he is carrying a plate of food, pancakes to be specific.

"Eli we want you to try and eat something before we let you out for a couple hours." he says to me, talking to me like I am a special needs patient. I nod and stare out the window, he slide the "C" shaped table over my bed and places the food in front of me. I look at him then to the food, and back at him. "Go on," he encourages me. I take a small forkful of the single pancake and put it in my mouth, the taste makes me nauseous. I chew and swallow the mushy, cooked, batter. It drops to my stomach and he keeps looking at me, I try another bite, this one making me even more nauseous than the last one. I swallow it once again but start to feel ill. Something in my face must tell my doctor this because he grabs an odd shaped dish and puts in front of my mouth quickly. I empty the small amount of contents from my stomach into the gray colored dish.

"Alright, we'll have to keep you on the liquids," he looks at his clip board and then to me. "So you are leaving here at quarter to noon and you will be back by two," he tells me, but looks at my father, who nods in response. He goes into the bathroom and returns with a little bit of water for me to wash away the acid in my mouth. I lay weakly with my legs straight out, parted a little, my left arm is still propped up and my right is across my body, gripping the sheet over my stomach. I am in an angle, probably about forty five degrees, my head resting on a pillow. My dad pulls out black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black blazer from a bag and lays them in my bed.

"How have you been changing your shirt with those? What about your pants, how can you reach?" he asks me. My mouth feels dry even though I just drank a few sips of water.

"Nurse," I practically croak. He gets the Dixie cup full again. I only take one sip of the water. "Thanks," I whisper.

"I'll get a nurse." he leaves the room and a nurse walks in ten minutes later. She removes the three bags odd the stand and helps me work my bad arm through the sleeve of my t-shirt, without taking the needles out. She helps me out of my pants, seeing as I can't even stand up, I put the jeans on. I have to wait until quarter to twelve before anyone will let me do anything else.

"We're going to get you transferred into this chair," my doctor tells me, I haven't taken the effort to learn his name, it doesn't really matter to me. He pulls my covers off and helps me get up and out of my bed, he holds tightly onto my arm and waist, supporting most of my body weight. He sets my the silver, metal framed chair, with a leather-like material as the back and the seat, a dark blue color. The chair is cold and uncomfortable.

"Eli, I don't think you can wear the blazer, I think it will interfere with your arm," he says looking from me to the coat. I shrug my shoulders and he moves the bags from the tall stand a couple feet towards me and he hooks them on the stand connected to the chair. I wait for my dad to be back in the room, when he eventually comes back we leave the hospital, he was giving a hospital rental van to use for the drive so I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of getting in and out of the chair constantly. It would have drained the little energy I have left in me. We get to the funeral hall and he pushes my up the ramp, inside smells of lilac, and I can see several arrangements of lilacs about the room. The room feels like is spinning for a second, the lilacs bring back such strong feelings towards her, I nearly break down. I breathe deeply trying to keep my cool. I calm down and he takes me to the casket. I see her pale skin decorated with makeup, I can see faint bruising on her skin and it kills me. I stare at her and allow my eyes to fill with tears and spill over.

"I love you," I whisper to the nicely dressed corpse that was everything I loved. I move past her limp body before I lose all control of myself. We all get into our vehicles and head to the commentary, we get out and he pushes me to the spot she is to be put to rest. There is a deep hole in the green grass and a machine nest to it to lower the casket into the hole. They place the long wooden box on to the contraption, it is lowered to the ground level. A priest says a speech a few minutes long and then lowers it even lower. Everyone takes a bushel of lilacs into the hole, everyone disperses to go to the lunch. My dad takes me there, just to see people.

"Hey, Eli." Paul says to me putting a hand on my right shoulder.

"Hey," I answer my voice a little stronger than it has been in a few days. "What's up?" I ask him, knowing perfectly well what is up with him.

"Not much, kid. How are you holding up, since your little problem." he asks me, making me feel a little embarrassed.

"Better , I guess. I can't eat so I think I am going to go back," I explain to him and my dad walks over to the place where he left me.

"You about ready to get back there, it's almost two," he asks me, I just nod. Everything hurts and I wish I didn't fail in my attempt more and more.

**What are you feeling about this?**


	5. Chapter 4

**Sorry, it's been forever. **

**I haven't been getting as much feedback anymore, which is a little discouraging.**

**I think it is mostly because I haven't had as much time lately.**

**I really am sorry about that, but I am paying so much to learn here, that I don't want to get side tracked and flunk out.**

**I'm the first person in my family to even go to college, so I am setting a positive goal for the rest of the younger kids. **

I blink as the sun starts to shine through the blinds on the fifth and last morning I am in this hospital, room. As far as I am aware I am being transported to a new hospital, more of a rehabilitation center. A place where there will be other kids, kids like me. By that I mean other kids who tried to kill themselves, great just what I need. I'm not really feeling to great about this program they are supposedly putting me in, it's called Project Jump Start, like jump start your new life, a happy one. I almost laughed when they told me, I would have but it still hurts. I refuse to maintain solid substance, and it takes me to a new level of low.

Apparently, this is also my last day that I will be able to use this as a source of life. Once I transfer I an to be walking around in a week, and be fully active in two. He's exactly how this plan is laid out: day one, I need to get off the IV feeding. Days two and three are just to get me into the system and showing me how things work, trying to get me walking. Days four and five are meant to start me on a pharmaceutical treatment, drugs, and then a verbal treatment, counseling. Days six and seven wrap up the week with a test of my progress with the little things.

That is as far as the doctor has told me, really. I am not sure exactly what to expect when I get there. I wonder if they will expect me to mingle with other kids there, I don't plan on it, unless it gets me out of there faster. I will do anything to get out of the supervision of these Ph.D.'s. Anything to be home again, home alone this time. I won't mess around this time, I know what I want and I plan to get it, even if it kills me, which I hope it does.

"Eli, today is the day you are being sprung from here." Anna says to me, smile planted brightly on her face. I smirk, trying to act happy. She pulls the bandaging from my arm and winces when she sees it. It is slowly starting to heal, the poor nutrition is slowing the process down quite a bit.

"Yep," I answer about a minute after she made her first statement. I receive a nervous glance from Anna. I laugh a short, fake, nervous laugh. The swelling has gone away, and the area surrounding the lettering has decreased in redness, but the cuts themselves haven't really changed all that much.

"I know we haven't talked about this and it really isn't my place to ask, but if you don't mind: why did you do this to yourself?" she asks me, looking upset, concerned.

"I killed my girlfriend," I say as strongly as I possibly can, I cant break down. Not now, not here. I inhale calmly, fighting tears, refusing to show her.

"Excuse me," she says shocked, her eyes are nearly budding out of her head, as she stops cleaning out my wound.

"You heard me, I killed her," I pause, "simple as that." I finish, she adverts her eyes from mine, staring right at my arm. She traces a narrow gloved finger over the lines engraved in my arm, but inscribed in my soul. I know I will always hate myself, so why live with the pain? The room remains silent as she re-dressed the wound.

"What do you mean killed her," she says feigning calmness. I can tell that it is all a façade by the way she still won't link our eyes, in a solid path. I gulp, unsure about my abilities to speak of this situation.

"We got into a fight, she rode off into the night on her bike, she couldn't ride straight, the tears fogged her vision, she rode right through an intersection, she got hit by a van and a pickup truck." I pause, "I caused my everything to die," I pause again, choking back tears. "I killed her." I say, letting them free. I fight to breathe though my sobs, she remains silent.

I look her right in the eye and whisper, "I want to die,"

**So happy Friday!**

**It's a bit short, sorry.**

**What do you think, keep going or stop?**


	6. Update!

Ok so short update since I have hardly touched this in a while.

Well I created a website for this story since it is a little bit more complicated than the other stories.

It has more characters that are not familiar like those on the show, that I have used before.

I am working on the next part right now, and it should be up in a day or two.

In the mean time check out the site, play around with it.

Let me know what you think of it?

Www .alittleoverayearago. com

The site has pictures and a little surprise!

Who will catch it first!


	7. NEW EPISODE

Sorry, I hope this doesn't upset you.

I just wanted to say that I have put up a site that you can talk about Degrassi.

The site is http:/ www. nightstalkerswritingcorner .webs. com

Check it out!


	8. Chapter 8

I'm sorry. I'm really not into any of these stories anymore, I've tried to get back into them but even the show hasn't been keeping my interest up as much as it used to. Maybe I'm distracted, scratch that, I am distracted. I have too much going on, I'm starting a new job and ive got some personal issues that are easier for me to write about.

If you don't completely hate me, and enjoy my writing please join my newest website where I am just putting things that I have written and things I am working on now.

I will put the link on my profile.

It would really mean a lot to me to hear from some of you guys/

Your feedback is what has encouraged me to share what I write.

Well, let me know what you are doing?

Thank you, guys, so much for everything.


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